Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles (24 page)

Read Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles Online

Authors: Kate Pearce

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fiction

BOOK: Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles
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He turned Artio’s head in the direction of the palace and fixed his gaze on the horizon. Even if he did leave, where would he go? He’d spent his entire life hunting Vampires and had no family, few friends who weren’t slayers, and no home. Unbidden, an image of Avebury Manor rose to taunt him. Rosalind had everything he’d ever wanted to give her—with another man.
The sun was lower now, sitting just above the line of the trees. Anger coiled low in his gut. Why in God’s teeth was he fighting anyway? What loyalty had ever been shown to him? He fought against the insidious new voice that seemed to have wormed its way inside his head. Damn it, he would not run away. He gripped the reins too tightly and Artio snorted and tossed his head. Despite everything, he couldn’t leave Verity to fight alone. Even if she didn’t want him, he had nothing left in his life that he wanted to protect as much as her.
 
 
Verity made her way back to the revelers and sought out Elias. He immediately found her a goblet of strong wine and made her sit down in the shade while she told him what had happened. For a long while he didn’t say anything, his expression remote, only his eyes betraying his frustration.
“This cannot go on. I too felt the Vampire’s presence and it was most unpleasant.”
“I’d already decided that for myself,” Verity replied.
“I cannot find any link between Janus and my line.” Elias frowned. “If I had turned him I would remember it, and yet I have no recollection of encountering his particular powers before. It is passing strange.”
“Perhaps he isn’t connected to you after all.” Verity sighed. “It just makes everything even more complicated, doesn’t it?”
“There has to be a blood link somewhere; otherwise how would we sense him? Perhaps he is connected to a distant branch of my line that has suddenly become more powerful.”
Verity looked up. “I suppose that could be true. Vampire blood ties run deep.”
“Blood is a very influential tool for a Vampire. It can control the fates of those turned and command them to our will.” Elias studied her closely. “Your blood is also very powerful. I wonder . . . ?”
“What?”
Elias patted her knee. “You are so impatient, my lady.”
“That is because I have only a human life span to enjoy, whereas you have immortality.”
Elias sat forward until he barely had to do more than whisper. “When we were fighting Queen Anne and George Boleyn, I was held captive on the altar of a Druid stone circle.”
“And?”
“Lord Christopher Ellis and I shared blood, but not in the common way. We had both been attacked and were bleeding.” He hesitated. “I have told no one else this. Our blood mingled on the altar and was absorbed into the stone. Ever since then I have had a familial connection with Lord Christopher and his son, Nicholas.”
“A Vampire connection?”
“Indeed.”
“I can understand why you would not wish to share this particular news with your peers. But what does it have to do with our current problem?”
Elias hesitated. “I wondered if such a connection would help Sir Rhys.”
“What exactly do you mean?”
“The combination of my blood and your Llewellyn blood should be enough to overpower the influence of any other Vampire.”
Verity contemplated Elias’s serious face. “And how would we achieve such a thing?”
“By sharing our blood with Sir Rhys on the altar in the stone circle.”
“But you have already taken his blood.”
“Clearly that is not a strong enough link.” Elias’s cold expression intensified. “We
must
break this Vampire’s hold over all of us.”
Verity tried to think. “I’d have to consult with the Elders to see if such a thing is possible. You are probably the only Vampire they would allow into the circle.” She hesitated. “We’d also have to convince Rhys that it is a good idea.”
Elias rose and bowed. “I’ll leave that part to you, my lady.”
Somehow Verity doubted it would be quite that simple, but at least she had a purpose now, even if it seemed too fantastical to be true. The first thing she needed to do was speak to Mistress Hopkins about the possibility of sharing blood on the sacred altar. If the Druid Elders permitted it, she would then need to persuade Rhys that it was a good idea.
She mounted her horse and headed out, her mind both busy and conflicted. Elias thought Rhys was enamored of her, but she could not allow herself to think like that. All she could do was appeal to Rhys’s sense of honor and his desire to destroy the Vampire who threatened the queen.
She ignored the suspicion that she just wanted to see him again. As his comrade-in-arms, she had a perfect right to check that he was no longer angry with her and to ask for his help.
 
 
Rhys lay on his bed and contemplated the darkness beyond his open window. His tiny chamber was in the eaves of the building and had retained all the heat of the day. He’d stripped down to his undergarments, but he was still warm. A single candle flickered on the table beside him, but he didn’t really need the light. After his grueling ride back, he’d sent his apologies to the king’s controller and retired to his chamber for some much-needed rest.
He was supposed to be joining a band of Druids patrolling the palace gardens, but he wasn’t sure he could gather the necessary strength. The church bell sounded nine times and he realized he was already too late. How could he face his fellow Druids with the stench of Vampire clinging to him and his temper so uncertain that he didn’t know what he would kill? Would they notice the change in him? Verity had, but then she was a female—and a Llewellyn female at that.
His lips curved into an unwilling smile as he remembered her shooting the crossbow, her face serious and her aim perfect to disable her opponent. Even as he’d struggled with his pain he’d been so proud of her. She truly was an amazing woman.
He heard footsteps outside his door and went still, one hand reaching for the dagger beneath his pillow. A soft knock had him swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up.
“Come in.”
The door opened and a slight male figure slipped inside. Rhys smelled honey and relaxed his stance. “My lady.”
Her gaze swept his naked chest and her cheeks reddened. “Did I wake you?”
“Not at all.” He rubbed a hand through his disheveled hair. “Is something wrong?” She hesitated and he patted the bed. “Please—sit down.”
Her hair was braided tightly to her head with the long plait tucked inside the back of her cloak. He wanted to place her in the center of his bed and slowly untie her hair, comb his fingers through it, and spread it over his pillow before he spread her legs and . . .
And she didn’t want him.
The moment she sat down on his bed, he got up and moved to the window ledge and looked at her inquiringly.
She stared at his bare feet. “I wanted to see if you were all right.”
“Did you fear I might run away?”
“No. I never thought you a coward.”
“Thank you for that, at least.” He studied her carefully. “I fear I am not used to being bested by a Vampire.”
“Or a woman.”
He chuckled. “You did surprise me. I underestimated you.”
“That’s not quite true. You gave me the opportunity to prove my worth, which most men of my acquaintance would never have done.”
“You are a Llewellyn.”
“That’s one of the reasons I came here tonight. I had a letter from my grandfather ordering me to come home.” She reached into her pocket and leaned forward to hand him an unsealed letter. “I have written back. I wanted you to read what I said.”
He held on to the letter but didn’t open it. “Surely this is between you and your grandsire?”
“I told him about the mark of Awen. I had to mention you, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t say anything you wouldn’t wish him to know.”
“That was very thoughtful of you.” He opened the letter and slowly read the contents. When he finished he handed it back to her. “You were more than generous in your praise of me. I’m not sure I deserve it.”
She smiled at him and he drank in the sight like a starving man. “You deserve every word.”
He found himself smiling back at her. “Why else did you come here?”
She looked down at the letter before folding it and putting it back in her pocket. “As I said, I wanted to see if you were all right.”
“Nothing else?” He couldn’t read her as well as he could Rosalind, but he was learning to pay attention to the small things, to the signs that she had more to say and more to give him.
“This is more difficult than I thought,” she murmured.
“What is?”
She angled her head to one side and studied him. “To ask for your help.”
He tried to ignore the sudden leap of excitement in his gut. “You must know I am your willing slave.”
“I know that you are one of the most stubborn men I have ever met.” She shifted on the bed and he watched her carefully. “You delight in vexing me . . .”
“Not on every count. Only when I believe you are in danger.” He took a deep breath. “In truth, Verity, I—”
She kept talking. “. . . which makes me feel a little foolish.”
His anticipation sharpened. He was too sore at heart to argue with her tonight. “What exactly do you want? I’ve already told you that I want you in my bed.”
She frowned at him. “I wasn’t thinking about that at all.”
Rhys held her gaze. “Then think on it now.”
She looked at his chest and licked her lips. “I’m ashamed for even imagining I could persuade you to do anything without you confusing me.” She shook her head. “You make it all seem so simple. But I can’t even tell you how I feel without making a muddle of it. It would have been much better if you were asleep.”
His body responded before his mind worked out quite what she was saying, and his prick thickened. “What would you do if I was asleep?”
She nibbled on her lower lip. “Get into your bed and seduce you?” She slowly looked at him and he held her gaze. “Or just tell you how I really feel.”
He stood up and crossed to the bed. Her blue eyes widened as he lay down and stretched out. “And how do you know that I am not asleep right now?” He leaned over and blew out the candle, plunging the small room into darkness. “I promise you I will not say a word.”
He lay still and waited to see what she would do. If she ran, he wouldn’t stop her.
The silence lengthened and he closed his eyes. When at last her hand came to rest on his knee, he bit down slowly on his lip.
Verity stared dubiously at his outline in the darkness. “Rhys?” she whispered.
He said nothing and she flexed her fingers on his knee. Could she do this? Could she share herself with him? If her grandfather insisted that she return home, it might be her last chance to touch Rhys. And she yearned to touch him so badly. Had she really come to his room to tell him about the potential new plan to defeat Janus, or had she wanted this all along? She took a deep breath.
“I dream about you. And in my dreams you truly are my lover and you welcome me to your bed. There is nothing between us but love. I yearn to hold you in my arms and kiss away every hurt you have ever suffered.”
He still didn’t speak, his breathing slow and even. She allowed her hand to travel from his knee to his hip and then rested it on the flat of his muscled stomach. She circled his belly and then his rib cage. He bit back a groan as her fingers grazed one of his nipples.
“Oh, Rhys,” she whispered, “I have longed to tell you how beautiful you are, my wounded warrior.”
Her fingers traced his bandaged shoulder and then reached his face. She touched his nose and his forehead, the curve of his lips and his closed eyes. She learned him as she’d always wanted to and he simply let her. Tears crowded her throat.
“I’ve always wanted to do this. To care for you as if I had the right. But it’s only possible in my dreams.”
She moved again in the darkness and straddled his lap, her thighs now enclosing his. He lay still as clothing rustled and fell away and then she leaned over him, her naked breasts soft against his chest, her unbound hair drifting over his warm skin.
His shaft kicked up against his underclothes, seeking her, but she didn’t free him quite yet. This was her dream, not his, and at this moment she knew in her soul that he would willingly follow her anywhere she led him.
She nuzzled his ear and then bit the lobe. “I want to give you pleasure and take my own, without worrying what you will think of me on the morrow.”
She kissed his lips and he opened his mouth and let her take charge, first returning the languorous thrust of her tongue, then sighing at the little kisses she sprinkled over his face, his neck, and his chest. She tried to touch him gently and carefully, so that he would know how much he meant to her, how much she cared.

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